


Here Comes The Devil

by StrawberryLane



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean pretends to be the killer the cops think he is, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Interrogation, POV Outsider, Police, there's talk of rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 22:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4804667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrawberryLane/pseuds/StrawberryLane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester, alive and well, grinned at him. Paul had seen that smile many times before, but never this real. Before, that cocky smile had greeted him on a television, or in the papers, as the manhunt for the serial killer and his brother had been documented all over the country. Paul shuddered at the thought, torn between feeling sick that the bastard was alive, and glad that he had been caught. Caught by a small town cop with a beer belly and in the beginning stages of baldness no less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here Comes The Devil

**Author's Note:**

> There's talk about raping, beating and killing a(n underage) girl in this story. It's Dean doing the talking. I just thought I'd be extra clear about that and write an extra warning, just in case.  
> _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

This was not happening. Someone higher up in the food chain had to be fucking with him, because this wasn't supposed to happen. It couldn't happen. Dean Winchester was dead. Everybody in that police station had died in the explosion. Everybody knew that. Especially the fellow law enforcement, to which Paul Jones belonged.

When the call from Mrs Polworth about how she thought someone was trying to break into her house, at nine in the morning, had reached the station, he hadn't wasted any time. Yelling out a greeting to his boss - and neighbor - Will, he had grabbed his gun from his desk and set out on a rescue mission. He liked Mrs Polworth and he'd be damned if anything happened to her on his watch. And maybe, just maybe, he'd wanted to show off for Emma. It wasn't every day his sixteen year old daughter came to his work or even took him seriously as a cop, so sue him if he'd wanted to show off a little. Show her that his work was important and that stuff actually happened, no matter how much she, and her mom, complained about this being a quiet little town where nothing ever happened. He had thought when he walked outside that this sure would show 'em. On his way to Mrs Polworth, he'd had no idea how right he was about to be.

Dean Winchester, alive and well, grinned at him through the one way mirror wall in front of the interrogation room. Paul had seen that smile many times before, but never this real. Before, that cocky smile had greeted him on a television, or in the papers, as the manhunt for the serial killer and his brother had been documented all over the country. Paul shuddered at the thought, torn between feeling sick that the bastard was alive, and glad that he had been caught. Caught by a small town cop with a beer belly and in the beginning stages of baldness no less. Paul was proud of himself, perhaps more proud than he'd ever felt, except for when Emma had, at the age of 7, won a pie eating contest, or perhaps, you know, her birth. He'd felt pretty proud back then too. 

For reasons Paul didn't know, he'd been assigned the honor of interviewing the man. To be honest, he'd much rather be back behind his desk, working on his report, but the only thing he could do was suck it up and get on with it. Nearly all of the working staff currently in the station were standing next to him or hovering nearby pretending to be doing something important. Everybody were interested in the infamous Dean Winchester.

********

"Dean Winchester," Paul said as he entered the room. The other man startled at the words, as if they had taken him by surprise. Paul knew better though.

"Nah, that's where you're wrong, officer, my name's Al. Al Hopping, I've told you."

"Sure it is. What, you just happen to look exactly like the serial killer?"

"It's a cross I have to carry, I guess," Dean grinned.

"Let's move on from your obvious lie and get down to business. What were you doing in Mrs Penny Polworth's house this morning?"

"I told you, I was just looking for a beer."

"You suddenly realized you wanted a beer so bad you couldn't wait until you got to a store?" 

"The house was in the middle of nowhere. All I wanted was one freaking beer. I didn't think anyone would be home."

"Basically every lamp inside that house was shining bright, there was smoke coming through the chimney. You really expecting me to believe that?"

"Yeah."

"Your track record speaks against you, son. You know what I believe?"

"No, I don't," Dean leaned as far back as he could get, which wasn't far, considering he was chained to the table.

"I believe you went into that house cause you saw Mrs Polworth and you liked what you saw. I don't think you were looking for a beer at all."

"You're wrong. I was looking for a beer."

"Sure you were. Were you gonna slice her up, like those poor girls in St Louis'? Why'd you do it anyway? Do you just hate women?"

“I wasn't gonna....I just wanted a beer. I had nothing to do with those killings in St Louis. That was a shape shifter.”

“A shape shifter? You really expect me to believe that, son?”

“You don't have to, but that's what it was,” Dean leaned back against his chair, trying to get more comfortable.

“You're crazy. I mean, I knew you were a believer of supernatural shit, but this. You actually believe it.”

“Because it's true.”

“Did daddy tell you that? From what I've heard about your family he made you and your brother believe in some pretty fucked up shit.”

“Don't you dare bring my family into this. They have nothing to do with it.”

“What is this, exactly? Are you gonna confess?” Paul leaned across the table, trying to look intimidating. He wasn't sure it was working.

“Confess to what?”

“That you broke into Mrs Penny Polworth's house planning on killing her?”

“But I wasn't.”

“You can claim your innocence all you want, but I don't believe you. You and your brother have done way too many fucked up horrible things for that. You bring death and destruction wherever you go, everybody knows that.”

“Don't talk about Sammy like that. He never did anything.”

“But you did?” 

“I might as well. You seem to have made up your mind about me anyway,” Dean gave a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

“Everybody knows what kind of monster you are. And I'm going to make sure you go down.”

“You do that,” Dean smirked. Paul briefly closed his eyes and willed himself to keep calm. FBI was on their way, and if he and his colleagues could just keep the man behind bars until they showed up, everything would be fine. He just had to be calm and to keep the man talking until then.

“Where's your brother? Did he actually die in that explosion?”

“I don't wanna talk about that,” Dean had suddenly seemed to lose some of his swagger. Paul smiled. Victory.

“Well, we're gonna. I'm the one calling the shots here.”

“You keep telling yourself that. Nah, this is boring.”

“Well, we have a nice holding cell that's waiting for its newest guest. You could always test it out before the FBI gets here.” 

“I'm fine staying here. I wanna do something else.”

“Like what? You could tell me about what you were actually doing in Mrs Polworth's house.”

“Let's say for a moment I am who you think I am. Can you guess which one of those beautiful ladies out there I would choose?” 

“To butcher up? According to the media you've always had a thing for blondes.”

“Well, I like blondes well enough. To be honest with you, I don't really care as long as I get to hear 'em scream. It's such a lovely sound, don't you think?” Dean wasn't looking at Paul anymore, he was watching the mirror, as if he knew how everybody who was inside the station right now were standing out there, listening in, watching the prisoner like he was an animal at the zoo.

“But in this case you're right. I'd choose that pretty young blonde thing out in the hall,” 

There had only been one pretty young blonde "thing" out in the hall when Winchester had been brought in, and she happened to be no one other than Paul's daughter.

"Emma?" Paul choked on his own voice. 

“That her name? Yeah, I'd choose her. Maybe you could introduce us?” 

“Don't you dare talk about her! Shut up!”

“Do you know her or something? Did I hit a nerve?”

“You shut your mouth about my daughter, you sick bastard.”

“She's your kid? That's a shame, because I was just about to tell you how much I'd like to watch her squirm on my dick. But I guess that would be inappropriate now," Dean grinned at him, looking smug. 

"What? Excuse me?" Paul felt as if the air had suddenly vanished from the room.

"I said, I'd like to watch her take my dick. As in, I'd like to fuck her. You know, I usually like my girls to be legal, but I can make an exception. She's one cute kid, how old is she anyway? She looks like she was made for it. Like she was made for taking me. Maybe I can get her to blow me too. You think I can? Do you think she'd wrap her lips around my cock and choke on me? I'd love that. Makes me so hard just thinking about it." 

Paul just stared at him, unable to get a word out. He felt as if the room was closing up on him. The sick bastard was just sitting there, talking about Paul's daughter as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Paul felt sick, and even though he wanted nothing more than get out of his chair and beat the sick fuck to a bloody pulp on the floor, he couldn't. He felt as if he was frozen in place.

“I was actually thinking about courting her, taking her out for a dinner and a movie, the whole thing, make it nice for her. But then you just had to bring up my family and how much of a sicko I am. That changed my mood real fast. I don't really like you anymore.”

“What does that have to do with her? Why bring my family into it?” 

“You brought my family into it, I bring in yours. You know what I think I'll do when I get out of here? I'm gonna get free of these handcuffs and I'm gonna walk out in that hall, and I'm gonna drag her back to this room by her hair, and then I'm gonna beat her. I'm gonna carve into her, because she's beautiful, and then I'm gonna fuck her. I'm gonna bend her over this very table, and I'm gonna force you to watch. Bet you'd like that, wouldn't you? I bet she'd look so pretty, blood and bruises all over her body. I hope she's a virgin. Those are always so much fun,” Dean laughed, a laugh that sounds as hollow as Paul felt. 

"And, if she's a good girl like I...," Dean came to an abrupt halt as the door to the interrogation room flew open with a loud bang, two bodies filling the doorway. One small, familiar one and one the size of a giant. Sam Winchester was standing there, in the small police station, holding a gun pressed against Emma's head and one large arm wrapped around her throat. Paul stared in disbelief, fear surging through him as he met his daughter's terrified eyes. 

"Time to go, Dean," Sam took a step back, forcing Emma to follow him.

"You sure took your time, Sammy. How hard is it to kill one vamp?”

“She was being difficult. I came as soon as I could,” Sam said and Dean snorted. He turned to Paul.

“Hey Paul, man, you wouldn't mind getting me out of these?” he rattled his chains towards Paul, who could do nothing else but what the man asked, because for the short second he thought about refusing Sam's arm tightened around Emma's throat, ever so subtly, and Paul berated himself for even thinking about it. He watched helplessly as Dean stretched and rubbed the chafed skin on his wrists.

“Let's go, Dean. Come on,” Sam backed even further away from the interrogation room, towards the exit. Paul felt a stab of fear when he realized that his daughter, his strong, confident daughter, was openly crying, tripping over her own feet as the younger Winchester dragged her with him, still pointing the gun at her head. Through the fog like feeling that had begun to surround him, he heard Sam's barking voice, no doubt addressing the rest of the staff outside of the room.

“Don't follow us. If you do, I'll shoot myself and then her, understood?” Dean turned to Paul before following Sam. Paul stood frozen in the middle of the room, the handcuffs Dean had been wearing not even minutes earlier laying on the floor by his feet. The brothers' voices seemed to float through the now silent building;

“Next time, you get to be the distraction. I made myself sick saying all that crap.”

******

Half an hour later, Paul's phone rang. It was Emma, telling him she was at a gas station right outside the town. Two hours later, a doctor reported that his teenage daughter had no injuries at all, visible or not. Paul was more confused than he'd ever been. Why wasn't his daughter laying dead in a ditch somewhere?


End file.
